Page 50 of Loreblood

I laughed. Trying to mimic his movements was nearly impossible for someone of my stature, but I tried my best. Thankfully, he was patient, going over the same patterns ten, twenty times before moving onto something new.

“There’s a reason I’ve only been showing you footwork and lower-half techniques over these past few months.”

My eyebrows lifted.

He dipped his chin at my hip, where my wooden sword hung. “There’s nothing I can teach you there. You’re better with the blade than me.”

My brow lifted even higher, close to my hairline. “You really think so?”

“I know so. You have reach over me and skill beyond mine thanks to everything Master Lukain has shown you. I’m not just trying to get in your pants when I say you’re the mostcompletefighter in the stable. The fact you’re a woman is irrelevant.”

My eyes wouldn’t move from him.And here I thought I would be rivals with Rirth and Culiar for the rest of my life, the way they treated me at first.

“Youaretrying to get in my pants, though,” I countered at last, trying to make light of his compliment. “Is that what you’re saying?”

He snorted. “Who wouldn’t?”

I blushed furiously, not expecting that answer. The man’s head only came up to my tits, yet here I was, flustered and tongue-tied like a whelp in front of him.

It was dawning on me why he was such a sought-after commodity among the womenfolk in the Firehold.

Even more impressive was seeing how someone’s demeanor could change so drastically when you exhibited true grit, determination, and skill, like I had over the past few years. People took notice of those qualities. I had not asked for handouts or easier duels simply because of what was between my legs—or not between my legs, in this case.

Rirth crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Now stop gaping at me like an ape and work on the technique I just showed you.”

I resumed the circuit of duels throughout my third year. By the end of the year, I had fought nearly every active Grimsons fighter there was to fight. Three of the only men I hadn’t dueled—besides some recently activated fighters—were Antones, Old Endolf, and Master Lukain himself.

Month in and month out, I went through the routines of preparation, fighting, and recovering. I didn’t win every fight, because Lukain had trainedallthe boys to be fighters, and there were some good ones. Especially the bigger men who were now in their early twenties. Even though I was bigger than any other woman in the Firehold, it was hard to compete with someone like Kemini.

Funny his name had “mini” in it, when the stubborn bastard stood like an oak tree, almost seven feet tall. He walloped me good in my initial fight once returning to the ring, knocking me out cold with a harsh backhand I practically ran into.

I was lucky none of my bones were broken that fight.

I redeemed myself a few fights later when I managed to swing Kemini’s legs out from under him and he luckily—or unluckily, for him—smacked the back of his head on the outlying fence and fell asleep for a while. Rirth’s footwork techniques had been a gods-send during that bout.

In a separate duel, a more experienced, older fighter got a good hit on me when I stopped utilizing Rirth’s maneuvers and got full of myself. I had told myself I’d never underestimate a fighter again, but there I was getting tossed on my ass after doing just that.

My days were spent healing and heavily drinking to numb my wounds. Even a victory led to countless bruises, aching joints, and worn muscles. Lukain warned me to be careful with the ale because it would dim my senses and make me useless if I overindulged. I would regress and lose everything I’d learned.

I listened to the grayskin and remained focused . . . but drinking was certainly a crutch for a while during that third year.

By the end of the year, my record stood at eleven victories and five defeats. It was a commendable ratio. No one could deny it. Especially coming from the first female dueler in Grimsons history.

After defeating Kemini to earn my final victory of the year, the ring remained quiet except for his lazy snoring.

“Match, Sephania,” Lukain said.

The twenty-member audience stayed quiet as usual. No clapping or congratulations followed my victory. Only Kemini’s snores and my heaving, hard-breathing gasps made any noise in the room. The watchers had grown from sixteen to twenty over the year with the inclusion of four more boys Lukain activated to fight.

I closed my bared teeth, reverting to a more civil version of myself once the battle-lust was gone and victory was mine.

Then Lukain did something different.

He stayed in the room.

“With that, Sephania, it is time.”

My head snapped over to where he stood on the other side of the fence. “Time, Master?”